


Happy Birthday, Connor

by Enigmatic_Stardust



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Happy Birthday Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Not Beta Read, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, When do androids have their birthday though, seriously he's best dad in this, some mention of game plot violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmatic_Stardust/pseuds/Enigmatic_Stardust
Summary: Connor was built on August 15th. It's his birthday.A quick tribute to one of my favorite andorids~





	Happy Birthday, Connor

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little tribute to Connor. I got it out a day late, unfortunately, but it's been a busy few days.

Getting Connor out of the house had been more difficult than Hank had previously anticipated. Of course, it had been though. Why wouldn’t it be? The kid was a fucking android detective. He was literally designed to pick up on suspicious behavior and anything out of the ordinary like Hank asking for him to go run a few errands for him by himself. He'd pretended to have a hangover that morning which, while that in and of itself wasn’t unusual, he didn't normally wake up as early as he did and he most certainly never woke up as early as he had today when he had a hangover. He'd seen Connor's eyes narrow, brow furrowing ever so slightly at Hank's request, but then he'd taken it in stride as he usually did, asking Hank what all he needed before heading out of the house (with Hank's credit card in hand no less).

With him out of the way though, Hank had the morning to himself to get everything ready. It had been years since he'd thrown any sort of party—since Cole’s sixth birthday to be exact—and he was a little out of practice. By the time the guys from the DPD arrived, he'd barely managed to get the streamers up let alone anything else. Fowler got the others to start helping with some of the other party favors like hanging up the banner and setting out the cups and plates for the refreshments. He had Gavin run to get the cake, much to his chagrin, but he'd never protest a direct order from Fowler no matter how much he cursed along the way. With the help of the others, Hank had his kitchen and living room mostly set up for the party.

It was only a half hour after Connor had left that he received a call that the kid was already on his way back. The kid was efficient, but thankfully the DPD was even better sometimes.

* * *

 

Connor knew something was going on. He'd never seen Hank get up before 10 am if he could help it and he'd certainly never seen Hank in such a good mood while suffering from a hangover. Scans of the room told him nothing though and Hank seemed to be in good health from what he could tell. There was a part of him that hoped that Hank was finally taking his advice and trying to shift his sleep schedule so he would be more productive at work, but he highly doubted that. It just seemed too good to be true. The situation became even stranger when Hank asked for him to run to the store to pick up groceries. Hank _never_ asked for him to run errands. Sure, there were times when Hank went to go and asked him to come along, but he never sent Connor off by himself. He knew that if he did, Connor would come back with nothing from his actual shopping list. Instead, he'd have a whole new diet regime for Hank set up in hopes of getting him to eat healthier. If Hank's attitude hadn't been enough to alert him to something strange going on, his request had.

There were a number of possibilities that ran through Connor's mind. The easiest explanation was that Hank really was just feeling off and wanted Connor out of the house for a bit so he could be sick in peace. The probability of that possibility was roughly 67%--high, but not enough to be affirmative in Connor's opinion especially since Hank hadn’t appeared to be that intoxicated the night before. A few other scenarios passed through, but only one other lingered: Hank was finally getting tired of Connor being around. It had been many months since the revolution and while Hank had made it clear that Connor was welcome in his house, there was always a haunting doubt that perhaps he'd change his mind. Maybe Hank was starting to send him off on errands to in an attempt to begin pushing him away. Perhaps he thought that he could annoy Connor through the implementation of pre-deviant android tasks. This possibility only had a probability of about 2%, but the thought stuck in his mind like a barb that refused to dislodge no matter how many times he dismissed it. Connor stubbornly moved on, trying to find a more probable cause.

The items requested from the store weren't the usual items that they bought, Connor noticed. This added yet another clue to his list of possible reasons for the unique request and behavior from Hank. Hank bought soda often, but he usually had a very specific type that he liked. He was fond of pineapple passion soda, which wasn't commonly sold but was somehow always available at his favorite food truck, Chicken Feed. The list today consisted of more generic sodas like Coke, Sprite, Ginger Ale, and Root Beer. Speaking of beer, the list didn’t have any alcohol on it, another flag. Connor obliged nevertheless, picking up the requested items before taking a cab back home.

It was along the way he garnered more clues, none of which were adding up. He picked out eight cars belonging to members of the DPD, including Fowler's car. They were all parked within about two blocks of Hank's house, suggesting that if looked further, he might find more within the surrounding radius. His stomach began to sink. Another possibility flashed into his mind. He thought about the night when he found Hank unconscious on the floor after a game of Russian roulette. If he had a stomach, it would have sank. It was another low possibility, but still high enough that he began to worry.

As soon as the cab pulled over in front of the house Connor grabbed the bags and ran to the front door, his heart racing as he fumbled with the lock. He put the bags down none too gently, taking out his key and jamming it into the lock, twisting, dreading what he would find inside. As soon as the tumblers within clicked he yanked open the door and heard a loud succession of bangs followed by the chorus of,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

He stood in the doorway, staring at the assembled group of bright, grinning faces, his LED cycling from red to yellow to blue as everything fell into place.

"I...what?"

In the living room under a banner of boldly written, uneven letters spelling out "Happy Birthday Connor" were half the DPD, Markus, Simon, North, Josh, and of course, Hank. They grinned at Connor while Hank burst out laughing, saying, "Fuck, look at his face! Priceless!". To say that he was genuinely surprised would be an understatement.

"I don't understand?"

"I did some digging kid. Turns out you were made on August 15th. Guess what day it is?"

“I don’t have to guess,” Connor stated, feeling a small smile starting to tug at his lips.

"I told you throwing a birthday party for an android was a stupid idea," Gavin grumbled, shaking his head.

"Oh shut up, Reed."

"Hey Connor," Markus walked over to the still stunned android and gently took his arm, leading him over to the kitchen, "Come on, we can't start this party without you."

The next few hours were a strange blur to Connor. He took everything in stride; hell, he even had fun. They’d bought him a blue cake with a poorly drawn picture of Sumo on it, much to the amusement of everyone (“what’s the point he can’t even eat it?!” “No but you can so shut up!”). The icing said "Happy Birthday Connor" in curly letters with "PS, Don't Eat" in smaller letters underneath. Connor stared right a Hank when he took two fingers and ran his hand through the frosting on the side, bringing it up to his mouth and analyzing a sample. Hank had the last laugh though when the frosting temporarily stained his fingers and tongue blue.

Connor had never attended a party and nothing in his protocol really explained why they were enjoyable. Most of his assumptions about parties included bright flashing lights, loud music, and dancing. His party wasn't that. It had music, but it was low enough that people could hear each other. In fact, that was what the majority of the party appeared to be about: eating, drinking, and talking. For the most part, the deviants and officers remained in their own groups, keeping to themselves. Every so often though Connor saw them mingling. Markus, in particular, went around to talk to almost everyone. Connor tried to do the same, but he found that he spent the majority of his time with Hank. He wasn't good at small talk that wasn't work oriented. He'd gotten better over the months, but he was still more than a little awkward. The thing was though, everyone here knew that already; he didn't have to care about putting up a front. He could analyze and take in his setting, listen to the conversations, and just generally enjoy himself.

Hours later after everyone left, Hank asked about it.

"I found it to be...relaxing," Connor said, helping to clean up the aftermath.

"Really? I thought you'd damn near died of shock when you first walked in."

"I did have a brief moment of concern, but it really was enjoyable." Connor picked up an empty glass (the fingerprints indicated it had been Fowler's) and added it to the growing pile of dishes in the sink.

"Do you remember it at all?"

"Hmm?"

"Being built?"

Connor frowned thoughtfully, "I'm not sure. Usually, when we're made we're reset after our initialization tests are run. I was a prototype though so..."

He picked up a few more glasses, taking them to the sink. Hank watched him, waiting patiently for a response.

"I think I do. I remember opening my eyes and hearing Amanda's voice...only...that wouldn't have been my physical body waking up. I do remember most of the tests though that happened over the following days."

"Eh, don't worry too much about it. It would be kind of weird to remember the exact moment you were born."

"Built," Connor corrected almost automatically.

"If we're going to get technical then we should really be celebrating your birthday on the day you became a deviant."

Connor smirked, "Maybe you’ll have to throw me a second party then. By the way, whose idea was this?"

Hank went over to the cabinet and took out two shot glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and a pack of thirium. He poured the thirium into one glass and the whiskey.

"Mine. Just made sense. Put that down and come here."

Connor set down the plate he'd been picking up and took the offered shot glass from Hank.

"You're a bit young to drink being only a year old and all, but my dad started me young too. It was a tradition in my family to take a shot on your birthday." He held out his shot glass to Connor, "Cheers, son. To your life! May you have a long one."

Connor gently clinked his shot glass against Hank's before draining the thirium.

Hank set his glass down, "I'm serious though. I'm glad I met you and that I got to be part of your adventure. Happy birthday, Connor."


End file.
